Impulses
by Miss Mercury Blue
Summary: Sequel to "Nerves." Jennifer Moss didn't realize that when she agreed to care for her cousin Bonnie, she also inherited a madman. Swept away in danger and peril, Jennifer must survive old threats as well as a new villain haunting the sewers.
1. Foundation

**A/N:** This is a sequel to Nerves and, as such, it is highly recommend that be read first. I apologize to those who have waited a year for this. It's been an, uh, interesting year, but I won't bore you with excuses and please do know that I am truly sorry for the rather extended delay. To be honest, I _have_ lost the desire to continue this story but I'm going to, in spite of that, simply because I hate leaving things unfinished. Plus, I hope that along the way I'll regain that spark. I will go ahead and warn you that there is a possibility of the dreaded Mary Sue Syndrome (I apologize greatly if this turns out to be the case), a chance of OOC (again, I apologize), and this might even classify as AU. I know this won't be the most paramount Joker/Batman fanfic but, nonetheless, I do hope that it's entertaining.

**Summary:** Sequel to "Nerves." Jennifer Moss didn't realize that when she agreed to care for her cousin Bonnie, she also inherited a madman. Swept away in danger and peril, Jennifer must survive old threats as well as a new villain haunting the sewers.

**Disclaimer:** I do not in anyway own, claim to own, make a profit off of, etc. Batman or its related mediums. Any recognizable character(s) that associate with Batman and its related mediums are not owned by me, but by their respective creators. This is written solely for entertainment purposes. Yadda, Yadda, Yadda. Please don't sue or report.

**Warning:** Impulses is rated **M**. This chapter may or may not contain coarse language, dark themes, and/or mature subject matter. Please read at your own discretion. Also, this chapter is a bit uneventful but necessary to establish character.

Enjoy!

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><p><span>Impulses<span>

Chapter One

- Foundation -

"Practically all the relationships I know  
>are based on a <strong>foundation<strong> of lies  
>and mutually accepted delusion."-Kim Cattrall<p>

* * *

><p>The plain, bare apartment was well lit; the numerous lamps illuminated every corner that would have otherwise been drowned in shadow. Yet, no matter how fiercely bright the beams tore through the darkness, none could penetrate the gloomed heart of Jennifer Moss. The grief that wormed its way in consumed all cheery thought and hurled them into instant obliteration. Her emotions were locked in one gear:<p>

Desolation.

The modest black dress slipped from her lithe form and pooled around her feet, still clad in short inky heels. Jennifer pushed it away on impulse and began working on the straps of the restricting shoes. Her movements were rigid, robotic. The heels quickly joined the rumpled dress.

Dodging the plethora of brown boxes littering her bedroom floor, she made her way to the small closet where only a handful of garments hung. Simple business attire disappeared from their wooden hangars, leaving them to sway despondently in naked loneliness.

The selected clothing was darker than what Jennifer would normally choose, especially on her first day of work. First impressions meant everything; and, she didn't want her new coworkers to get the idea that she was a habitual dejected individual.

That would be erroneous.

Smoothing down the blue-black skirt, her lovat-green eyes caught the discarded sable clothing, causing a dejected sigh to slip out. Jennifer's shoulders sagged as she loomed over the dress and shoes. She knew she wouldn't be able to wear them again. They were a one-time use and had served their purpose. She couldn't wear something that was permanently branded as funeral clothes. A trip to the closest donation drop-off would have to be made in the morning.

For now, Jennifer had to focus on surviving the workday. Well, night.

The somber stillness that had settled over the apartment was shattered in an instant by the dulled whining of the telephone. Her attention split from the clothes, her breathing hitched. It would only take two guesses as to who was calling and she wasn't ready to speak with either.

Jennifer resolved to ignore it; the answering machine would pick it up. Allowing the rings to play themselves out, she fished for a pair of casual heels from one of the opened boxes. The machine beeped, Jennifer's peppy and bubbly voice filled the living space and informed the caller that she was unable to answer, asked to leave a message, and she would get in touch later.

Mary Lewis' strained voice broke with every other spoken word. Jennifer felt the gloom in her heart expand at the sound of her aunt filling the small space. She choked down a sob as her throat constricted painfully. Her feet were forcefully shoved into a pair of dull, worn shoes. Jennifer needed to get out of there and escape her aunt's lament.

Or she feared that she would never get away.

The purse vanished from the door handle, the coat left the rack, and the front door creaked open before slamming back in place. Jennifer's hands quivered as she locked the door, finally cutting off the weeping recording on the answering machine. Her head rested against the rough wood and urged the tears swelling in her eyes to keep from falling. Her lungs expanded slowly with each deep inhale.

Slowly.

Calmly.

Peace.

Jennifer abandoned the door in one swift movement and marched toward the elevator. She was bound and determined to face the tragedy with strength and poise. Nothing would detract from the happiness she once knew. Bonnie would be missed, without a doubt. But the objective for the moment was to get through work without any mishaps.

And crying certainly wouldn't help.

The elevator was empty. Thank God. Jennifer had yet to meet any of her neighbors but didn't have the strength to carry on small talk. Although, something told her that if there had been someone else with her, there wouldn't be much conversation flowing. Her apartment building gave off the feeling that people wanted to be alone and left that way. Not that Jennifer minded. She could make friends at work. It was always easier to befriend a fellow dispatcher. No one else could understand the stress caused by the demanding job.

The elevator creaked down to the lobby floor where it settled with a small sway. The doors groaned as they parted, allowing Jennifer to pass through. The building's door locked behind her as she exited quickly and descended the steps two at a time. The bus stop was just down the block so she wouldn't have to endure the muggy night air for long. Sweat and work were not two things that should be mixed.

Pressing the button on her watch to turn on the backlight, Jennifer sighed in relief to find that she hadn't missed the bus. Depression, body odor, and tardiness would be avoided at all costs. She looked up at the sound of the city bus rounding the corner and pulling to a stop beside the bus route sign.

_That was convenient_.

Deciding not to question the perfect timing (never look a gift-horse in the mouth), Jennifer boarded the public transportation and scanned her bus pass before taking the first available seat. The ride to the police station would be fairly brief but until then, Jennifer was left alone with nothing to distract her from the day's events.

_Talk about a first-class welcoming._

Jennifer wasn't supposed to move to Gotham City for another two weeks; but, the unforeseen death of her cousin Bonnie changed that. The funeral was small and modest, nothing too extravagant. Not even the weather would go out of its way to complement the attendees' moods. Not a single cloud would squeeze out a raindrop in mourning of Bonnie. Jennifer's Aunt Mary and Uncle Roger couldn't stay long after the service. As soon as Bonnie's empty casket was lowered six-feet, her parents were boarding their flight back home.

Jennifer wished she could fly back home. She was regretting her decision more and more. Her mother tried to warn her; never make a life changing decision in the heat of the moment.

Lost in thought, she rubbed her left hand's ring-finger. The nakedness jolted her back to reality, back to the dirty bus, back to the struggle for survival.

Back to the pain.

The police station neared her line of sight. Taking this as her cue, she stood and tugged on the wire hanging above her. A small bell sounded from the front. The rails provided a nice support when the bus jerked to a stop in front of the station. After regaining her balance, Jennifer pulled the straps of her purse higher up on her shoulder, securing them before she faced the dark streets.

It was completely silly to think anything would happen from the few yards separating her from the doors of the station. Plus, it _was_ a police station. This was nothing. It was completely illogical. She couldn't be a slave to her phobia for the rest of her life. Yet, staring out the windowed-bus door and seeing the poorly-lit streets, Jennifer felt her breathing seize.

_Dark_.

The bus driver stared at her, his expression so mixed it was impossible to decipher. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Is this your stop?"

"Sorry?" Jennifer turned to the driver.

He sighed. He wasn't going to rush her too much; the bus was practically empty. "Is this your stop or not?"

Almost as if she'd only needed reminding, Jennifer nodded briskly. "Yes, this is my stop."

The driver raised his eyebrows. The woman was clearly nervous. About what, he didn't know. Seeing as how she was wanting to stop out front of the police station, she probably had some sort of crime to report.

Burglary? No, that was too petty compared to her current state.

Abusive relationship? No, she didn't look beat up. Her emotional condition, however…

Mugging?

Possibly.

"Well, then this is your stop." The bus driver pulled on his handle and worked it around until the door folded open. _Hint, hint_.

Jennifer eyed the shadows warily but braved it regardless. The moment her feet were safe on the concrete, the doors unfurled and the bus was off. She was now stranded with nothing but the police station.

And the creepy alleyway-guys.

Keeping a watch on the suspicious loiterers, Jennifer walked up the steps leading to the doors. The door was heavy; she had to strain to keep it open long enough to pass through. The door slid from her hands and closed with a thud. Walking to the front desk, she inquired about the location of the dispatchers' offices. The receptionist asked for her identification before giving simple directions. Jennifer thanked the man before heading off. In no time at all she was walking in to a spacious room filled with cubicles.

A woman approached her, hand out. "Hi, you must be Jennifer Moss." The woman smiled.

Returning the smile, Jennifer grasped her hand firmly and replied, "Yes, hi. And you're Marcy Day, right?"

"Yep, that's me!" Their hands dropped. "Come with me and I'll show around."

Jennifer nodded and trailed behind the woman closely, trying to keep up with everything she was saying as she pointed out certain things along the winding tour around the cubicles. The woman seemed to be quite the talker.

She double backed to where Jennifer entered from and gestured to a small mechanical clock hanging on the wall. "Right back over here is the time clock where you'll slide your I.D. to clock you in and out. You have it on you, right?"

"Oh, yes." Jennifer fished through her purse. She just had it. "Ah-ha!" she declared triumphantly. "Found it!"

"Wonderful. Now, you just slide it through and when the option comes up, push 'clock-in'. And you'll do the same for when you're going on break or finished with your shift. Except of course you'll choose the 'break' or 'clock-out' option respectively," Marcy instructed. "Go ahead, slide it through."

Jennifer swiped the identification card and pressed the "clock-in" button.

"Simple, yes?"

"Yes, very."

"Now, be sure to clip that on to your collar," Marcy pointed at the I.D. in Jennifer's hand. "This is a police station, we take security very seriously and as such you must have that on you at all times when you're on the premises."

Nod. "Yes, ma'am." Jennifer clipped in on to her collar quickly, not wanting to cause any trouble.

Marcy's smile eased the nerves bubbling in Jennifer's stomach. "No need for the 'ma'am' around here. Now, let's continue our tour."

Marcy led her to a side hallway that opened out into a large break room. She gestured to the space and said, "This is the break room. Table and chairs," she slapped the chairs on the backrest. "Refrigerator; be sure to label your name on anything you put in there. Microwave, toaster oven, coffee, sink, vending machines," she pointed at each object as she listed it. "Oh, and," she opened the cabinets above the countertops. "There are paper plates and cups up here if you need them. The plastic utensils are in this drawer. And in case you make a mess," Marcy opened the cabinet underneath the sink. "We have all of the basic cleaners here. Think you can handle it?"

"Yes, it doesn't sound too difficult."

Chuckling, Marcy pushed them on to the next destination on the tour. She stopped beside an empty, bare cubicle and smiled.

"This is your new home-away-from-home. I know it doesn't look too homey right now, but once you put up some pictures and bring in a troll doll I'm sure you'll feel nice and cozy."

Jennifer looked at the small space and nodded. It wasn't any different than the one back in Houston. You've seen one cubicle then you've seen them all. She'd have to keep in mind to bring some things her next shift.

"Now," Marcy regained her attention. "You've already been fingerprinted, correct?"

"Yes, that was all done when my picture was taken. For the I.D."

"Good. Well, I'll let you get to work. You _do_ know how to work this?" Marcy gestured to the computer.

"Yep. I've been doing this for several years."

Clapping Jennifer on the shoulder, Marcy said, "Well then, good luck on your first run here. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask someone. You'll do fine; I can feel it already."

Jennifer thanked her before she left to attend to some other business. She was now alone with her new cubicle. Her new "home-away-from-home", as Marcy described it. The large room was filled with the voices of operators answering calls and dispatching the proper personnel. Her green eyes caught the chair and she stared at it for a second.

This was her new life. Once she sat in that chair there would be no going back. Not that she could anyway. Her apartment back in Houston was gone, Adrian was gone, her job was gone, and now, Bonnie.

The thought of Bonnie seemed to be the catalyst that got Jennifer moving. The chair was filled, her things were dumped on the desktop, and the computer was fired up. Her knuckles cracked as she began limbering up for the long night. A long night spent in a chair, answering the emergency calls of people in the midst of panic. It was no wonder most of the dispatchers she knew had to see a therapist. The demands of the job were too stressful. It affected every aspect of life.

Like a marriage.

Jennifer drummed her fingers lightly on the edge of the white keyboard as the computer finished running through its startup programs. She plugged in her headset and took a deep breath as the calls started flooding in.

A long night indeed.

* * *

><p>Her first break was only for fifteen minutes but Jennifer wasn't going to let that go to waste. After clocking for her break she headed right to the break room and searched out the coffee brewer. Having forgotten to bring a mug from home, she borrowed one of the backups from the cabinet and set to work. She didn't have much time to spare.<p>

"Hey there! You must be Jennifer Moss, right?"

Taken by surprise, Jennifer turned to find a young man roughly her age grinning down at her.

"Um, yeah, that's me." She forced a smile.

He stuck out a hand. "Marcy told me about you. The name's Jim Lamont."

Jennifer shook his hand briefly. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet _you_," he turned to the sink where he dumped out the contents of his mug. "How's your first day treatin' you?"

Jennifer observed him quietly. "It's alright. Nothing that I'm not already used to."

Jim straightened and asked, "Oh? This isn't your first time?"

She shook her head. "No, I worked as a dispatcher back in Houston for a few years. So, this is quite routine for me," she informed.

"Is Gotham any different from Houston?" He sounded genuinely interested. "You know, I haven't left Gotham in years. Practically been here since the day I was born."

"Well, for the most part they're similar. The only big difference is that Houston doesn't have any crazy madmen trying to annihilate everything in their path."

"Yeah," Jim chuckled. "Gotham's charm, I suppose. So then, what brought you all the way here? Especially since we _do_ have crazy madmen trying to annihilate everything in their path."

Jennifer matched his chuckle while answering, "I needed a change of scenery."

"What, Houston not exciting enough for you?"

"Nope, I need to be in constant fear for my life or I'll die of boredom," she joked.

Jim dried his mug. "Ah, a woman in need of high-stimulation. What scenery needed changing?" His tone sounded innocent enough but that didn't keep Jennifer's smile from disappearing.

"Just, you know, _stuff_."

Looking up from the sink, Jim studied Jennifer's face. He recognized that expression. The downcast eyes with the faraway look, the lax lips, the despondency weighing down the shoulders; he knew it all too well. "Oh yeah, I know what you mean. Terrible, _stuff_ is."

They fell into a silence, both lost in their separate regrets.

"Your coffee's ready."

Jennifer jumped out of her rumination. "Sorry?"

Jim gestured to the coffee maker. "Your coffee is ready."

"Oh! Yes, thank you!" Jennifer turned to the coffee pot and poured the caffeine into her substitute-mug to the desired amount. She gave Jim a sheepish smile. "Thank you. I really appreciate it. I don't have a lot of time to be messing around."

He returned her smile. "Don't worry about it. Got to take care of the fresh meat, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jennifer cradled the warm mug. "Well, thanks again. It was nice meeting you, Jim."

"You too, Jennifer. Have a nice night."

"Oh, you too!" Jennifer began to realize that their conversation was dragging out into awkward-territory.

Jim smiled as he said, "I most certainly will. My work's done for the night actually. I'm heading out in a minute. Just came to wash out my mug. Otherwise I'd forget at home and then I'd come back in and it'd have all that gunk dried on the bottom and it'd be impossible to wash," Jim stopped when he realized he was rambling. "So, yeah."

"Wow, sounds intense."

He shrugged. "You learn these things after awhile, you know. But yeah, I'm off to unwind at a jazz bar. Relax, enjoy some tunes."

"A jazz bar?" Jennifer asked, intrigued.

Jim answered with a nod, "Yeah, 'Broke Benny's' is a nice jazz bar not too far from here. Why? You like jazz?" He eyed her with interest.

It was her time to shrug. "I might."

"Well, you should check it out. Hey, maybe we could even meet up there for a drink sometime," he offered.

Jennifer smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Alright," he could barely contain the smile bubbling across his lips. "I'll let you get back to work."

She departed with a smile and a small wave before making her way back to her cubicle. This time when she sat down, her mind wandered to more pleasant thoughts. Maybe things couldn't go back to the way they were, but now Jennifer wasn't too sure she wanted that. Things seemed to be working themselves out just fine.

* * *

><p>Jennifer was on a mission once she returned home. The vast expanse of nothingness that greeted her when walking through the door deflated her buoyant mood.<p>

"Something has to be done about this," she sighed.

She half-expected the blank walls to respond with, "Yes, yes you do! Please, clothe us in color and décor! Make us beautiful and appealing!"

Stripping off her coat, Jennifer hung it back on the coat rack and headed straight to her bedroom. Her clothes spilled to the floor before she balled them up and tossed them in the hamper in her bathroom. She hastily threw on a pair of cotton shorts and an old Christmas sweater before setting her sights on the box containing her bed linens.

Her room brightened immensely once her bed was all made-up. The dramatic improvement only encouraged her to forge on. Jennifer pushed the rest of the furniture into their desired places. Books packed the bookshelf, clothes filled the drawers of the dresser, laptop and printer were set up on the desk, and the alarm clock was placed on the nightstand.

Before long, she had to roll up the sleeves of her sweater and throw her russet-colored hair into a hasty ponytail. Jennifer quickly found that she was unable to hang any of her artwork or decorations due to her lack of hammer and nails. Instead, she stacked them in a corner of her closet for safekeeping.

Boxes emptied throughout the night and well into the wee hours of the morning. Jennifer finally stopped when she placed the last of the bowls in a kitchen cabinet. She was sweaty and exhausted, but felt good with the amount of progress she made with her random burst of energy.

Stumbling her way to her freshly-made bed, she crawled underneath the welcoming sheets and sighed contentedly. Rest would be important for her next shift that night.

**Phone.**

Jennifer's eyes flew open and her hand shot out from underneath the blanket and closed around a cell phone placed on the nightstand. The power cord was pulled out and allowed to fall to the carpeted-floor. A push of a button turned the device on and Jennifer's eyes were alit with the illuminating welcoming message. Earlier, she made the decision to leave the cell turned off at home so that she wouldn't have any of the pain follow her to work.

After finishing with the loading, the phone alerted Jennifer that she had several new voicemails. She sighed, though this time it was disheartened. Rather reluctantly, she pressed for her voicemail. For each message that had a relative or friend beginning to express his or her condolences, she automatically skipped it. She could listen to them in full later

The last voicemail wasn't from anyone she recognized. It wasn't even about the funeral or Bonnie's death.

Jennifer didn't breathe the entire time the recorded message played. It was a woman, a nurse who worked at Arkham Asylum; Jennifer knew next to nothing about the institution but the name alone conveyed a sense of foreboding. After her brief introduction, the nurse dove right into a long-winded explanation about the reason for the call.

**It was a patient.**

The nurse had Jennifer's full attention, and then some. She divulged that there was a patient in their care who had a "Jennifer Moss" listed as a relative. Jennifer couldn't think of anyone she was related to who would be in Arkham. Not even anyone she _knew_. She was the first of her family to live in Gotham. Well, other than Aunt Mary and Uncle Roger.

**And Bonnie.**

"Ms. Moss, this patient wishes to leave for a bit but she has no other family. Her doctor has already approved of a temporary leave of absence; we just need somewhere for her to go." Here, the nurse paused. "Ms. Moss, this is regarding Siobhan Lewis."

Jennifer's heart stopped.

**Bonnie.**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I know, I know. Not much happened. I'm just trying to set up Jennifer's character and her situation before I throw her into the stirring pot of crazy-soup that is Bonnie and Joker. Oh, and a bit of Batman.

Funnily enough, I originally planned on having Jennifer be creeped out by Jim and his advances; but, I started writing him and he turned into this sweet guy and it just seemed to fit. Plus, Jennifer needs to have something happy with what she's going to go through by the end of this story. So now I'm getting kind of excited about writing their relationship and how it's affected by her cousin.

I hope you enjoyed this beginning of the end of this little two-part series. Any comments, **constructive** criticisms, questions, concerns, etc. are welcomed and respected.

Thank you for reading and have a marvelous day!

:)


	2. Her Lament

**A/N: **What, What! Is this a new chapter I see? I-I think it is! I do believe that this is an update!

And yes, school (and work) has started for me as well. Let us all come together and share in the pain as it eats up all of the free time that is supposed to be dedicated to writing and updating.

**Summary: **Refer to Chapter One.

**Disclaimer: **Refer to Chapter One.

**Warning: **Refer to Chapter One.

Enjoy!

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><p><span>Impulses<span>

Chapter Two

- Her Lament -

"'My grief lies all within;  
>And these external manners of <strong>laments<br>**Are merely shadows to the unseen grief  
>That swells with silence in the tortured soul. . .'"<br>-King Richard II  
>in William Shakespeare's<br>_Richard II_

* * *

><p>Jennifer could hardly get any sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed the same way her thoughts tossed and turned in her head. Every other minute she would cast a quick glance at her bedside clock, the red glow of digits cutting through the darkness, before returning to her restlessness. Somewhere between 3:00 A.M. and 5:00 A.M. Jennifer managed to doze off.<p>

At 10:00 A.M. her alarm woke her with a piercing shrill. Her hand sloppily fell on the button to silence it, the last echoes finally dying out.

The white ceiling met her stare.

"I suppose," Jennifer paused to clear her throat. "I should get up." Perhaps stating this out loud would motivate her to get out of bed. But even with that she was still stretched underneath the blankets, completely unmoving. Her eyes rolled to her alarm clock to catch sight of the time. "Yep," she returned her gaze to the white ceiling. "Time to get up."

It was surprisingly easy to get ready that morning. Jennifer figured that with what little, and what troubled, sleep she got she would be one of the living-dead. Quite the contrary though, when she did a final sweeping inspection of her appearance in the full-length mirror, she was rather amazed that she appeared so well-rested. It was a miracle how much a shower and cosmetics could do for a woman. Jennifer passed off her high levels of energy as excitement and anticipation in seeing Bonnie. If it truly was Bonnie. A part of her believed this to be a cruel prank by some sort of twisted joker.

Joke or not, Jennifer was still stoked.

She was even considering taking off for her next shift.

Just in case.

The cabbie didn't question her when she instructed him to take her to Arkham Asylum but his eyes constantly cast her a curious glance through the rearview mirror. Jennifer grew nervous at the odd behavior. She knew nothing about the institution but was far too nervous to ask. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, wrapping fingers around the straps of her purse.

The ride was longer than she had hoped, though that could have be due to her anxiety.

They crossed a bridge and Jennifer finally caught sight of the hospital. It loomed before them, eclipsed so that an eerie shadow fell across the small road leading them to an old parking lot.

It looked like any other hospital but the feeling Jennifer got from it was a different story entirely. This was certainly no ordinary hospital. It felt as if it should have closed its doors years ago. She didn't like knowing her cousin was staying there.

The taxi pulled into the designated Drop-Off area and came to a stop. Before the driver could give Jennifer the total fare she had already fished out a wad of cash and dropped it over his shoulder. The car door flung open and Jennifer jumped out, just barely remembering to close it. The taxi tore off, leaving her to walk to the entrance alone.

The glass doors slid open when she stepped on the sensor-mat, a gust of cooled air greeted her on the other side. The lobby was clean and simply decorated. It certainly looked nice, but it just didn't _feel_ right to Jennifer. The only way she could describe it was like a "wolf in sheep's clothing"; it looked pleasant and appealing but underneath there was a dark, monstrous secret. The disparity made the hospital feel even creepier.

Jennifer ignored the foreboding aura and approached the front desk. The man greeted her with a small smile and Jennifer quickly explained the phone call she had received. The man nodded and told her to take a seat; the doctor would be paged.

The cushioned chair was fairly comfortable. Jennifer leaned back in an effort to relax but the nerves flaring in her gut refused to abate. Thankfully she didn't have to wait long. A pair of locking doors lurched open and an aged man appeared. Jennifer took him to be the doctor.

She rose to her feet quickly and welcomed him with a smile, excited that things were finally about to start rolling.

"Hello, Ms. Moss," he greeted, shaking her hand firmly. "I'm glad to finally be able to meet you. I am Dr. Garrison."

"Nice to meet you. And I'm glad to be here."

Getting right to the point, the doctor said, "Follow me, please. We'll talk along the way."

A guard unlocked the security doors and Jennifer followed the doctor through. Leading her down the hallway, he began to debrief her on the situation.

"Are you aware of the events that brought Siobhan to this institution?"

Jennifer opened her mouth but then closed it. A body had never been recovered. She was missing for so long they finally had to declare her dead. If Bonnie was still alive out there, there had been no signs of it. Except, until now.

"No, I'm not aware. She just went missing. How did she end up here?"

"She was brought here by a good Samaritan, of sorts. She was in critical condition, burned, you see. The man claimed to be passing by and saw her through a window, on fire. He doused the flames, wrapped her in his coat, and took her to Gotham City Hospital."

"She was set on fire?" Jennifer gasped, completely horrified by the thought.

Dr. Garrison nodded. "Her recovery was long and arduous. She still has a ways to go."

"How is she? Physically, I mean."

"Now? You can barely notice a thing."

Mouth dropping, Jennifer asked, "What? But she was on _fire_."

They passed through a set of swinging doors.

"Through the wonders of medical science and technology, Ms. Moss."

"How do you mean?"

"Considering the extent of her burns we knew she wouldn't survive for long so we replaced it with synthetic material that looks and feels like skin and performs all of the same functions as skin. The only difference is that it's artificial. Before you leave I'll give you a book that explains all you'd need to know about SyntheSkin. We then reinforced her weakened bones with titanium alloyed rods. We repaired and replaced her organs and muscles with donors'. Trust me, Ms. Moss, when I say that Siobhan is going to be more than fine."

"Who paid for all of this? Our family doesn't have that kind of money." Jennifer couldn't even begin to wrap her head around the staggering costs of such procedures.

"Don't worry," the doctor assured. "It's all been taken care of. There's a sister-charity of the Wayne Foundation set up for medical advancements and operations. They covered it. We were actually overjoyed to receive a patient such as your cousin. Her condition gave us the perfect opportunity to test out these new methods."

"So, you're saying Bonnie was a guinea pig?"

"What I'm saying," he stopped in the middle of the deserted hall and stared into Jennifer's eyes. She fought down a shiver. "Is that Siobhan has paved the way for other unfortunates in her same position. She is our flagship, proof that these methods work."

He didn't allow Jennifer the time to reply as he turned around and they continued on down the hallway. She wasn't opposed to their actions but the possibility of the procedures not working out unsettled her. Would they have still contacted her if Bonnie hadn't made it through? They could've easily just dropped it and Jennifer and her family would have gone on thinking that Bonnie was dead. Did they think the risks were really worth it?

Apparently yes since it all worked out.

"Now, on to the reason you're here. Siobhan has come a long way since being transferred to our hospital. She still has to undergo intense rehabilitation with speech and physical therapists. A psychiatrist of course meets with her regularly and she attends group sessions periodically."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Her recovery is beyond anything we could have foreseen. That's why the board of directors all agree that your cousin could use a short period of freedom, with tight restrictions of course. We would have to send someone to your place to make it safe for Siobhan. And the therapists she meets with would have to visit her everyday for a couple of hours on end. Oh and then there's her psychiatrist. Plus, we'd require weekly checkups to monitor her progress. But we can iron out all the details later. I'm sure you'd like to be reunited with your cousin now."

Jennifer was dumbfounded. Everything was happening so fast. She couldn't believe it.

"What about the legalities? I'm sure there's a mountain-high list of liabilities here. I'm not even certified in anything other than CPR."

"Again, we'll iron that all out later."

"This can't be legal," Jennifer pressed.

Doctor Garrison stopped once more and turned to Jennifer.

"Ms. Moss, legalities are the least of Arkham's concerns. You're new here, yes?"

Jennifer nodded quietly, nervous about where he was going with this.

"Arkham Asylum has seen its fair share of psychos, lunatics, and homicidal maniacs. We are _overflowing_ with the mentally disturbed, most of them violent criminals. We're talking the _criminally insane_," he leaned in closer to Jennifer's ear, dropping his voice to a whisper. "One of _our _psychiatrists began testing on his patients with a fear-inducing drug he created himself. He even unleashed it on the city before being caught and admitted. _Here_. So, no offense Jennifer, but releasing a recovering patient for a month or two is perfectly fine in our book. You do want to see your cousin, right?"

"Yes," Jennifer croaked. She cleared her throat and repeated herself. "Yes. I do want to see her. Thank you for clearing that up for me."

The doctor moved back, allowing Jennifer to breathe comfortably again. He smiled at her, completely unfazed by the dark secrets he just divulged.

"Let's continue, shall we?"

Dr. Garrison led Jennifer to a small room lined with large windows. The light from outside highlighted a figure in a wheelchair. Jennifer's breathing hitched. The figure was facing away from her so she couldn't see her face but Jennifer was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Bonnie?"

In answer, the patient slowly maneuvered the wheelchair one hundred and eighty degrees. Confronted with the full sight of Bonnie, Jennifer's breathing returned full force. It almost seemed like she couldn't breathe enough, like she was suffocating. The doctor clapped her on the shoulder.

"Well, I'll leave you two alone while I gather the documents and release forms."

They were finally alone.

Jennifer stared at Bonnie.

Bonnie stared at Jennifer.

"I," Jennifer paused, not knowing what to say. "I don't know what to say." A hollow laugh slipped out.

"'Hello' seems like a nice start."

Bonnie's voice was rough and grating, soft and low; Jennifer almost didn't hear her. But her voice didn't faze her a bit. She was so overjoyed that Bonnie could talk _period_. Tears began prickling the corners of her eyes.

"Hello," she laughed subtly. "It's good to see you again."

The doctor told Jennifer that Bonnie wouldn't have any scarring, but it was almost eerie how smooth she looked. There were no imperfections; not a single flaw or blemish in sight. Thankfully the color of the SyntheSkin was blended realistically so she didn't look too plastic. But she looked so-

Jennifer couldn't pick out a single word to describe her new skin. It was just too unnerving. Bonnie had always had scars, small ones yes, but scars all the same. She was fearless after all.

"It's certainly been awhile," Bonnie agreed. She looked off to the side, her attention turning to a table lined with chairs. "You should take a seat. Make yourself comfortable."

Surprising herself with her graceful movement, Jennifer turned a chair towards Bonnie and sat down. She was fully expecting to be clumsy and stumbling along the way. But facing her cousin, she was again met with that unsettling feeling.

"You listed me as a relative," Jennifer began.

Bonnie nodded and said, "Yes, along with my parents."

"Then why did they contact me?"

Bonnie shrugged. "They must've gotten word you were in town. Why are you in town?"

"I moved," Jennifer answered quickly. "Houston was getting a little boring. I needed a change of scenery."

A look of incredulity consumed Bonnie's artificial features. Her skin pulled and wrinkled strangely. "You prefer the scenery of a graveyard converted into a dumpsite?"

"You never left," Jennifer pointed out.

"Only because I became one of the rats."

Jennifer frowned in confusion; she didn't understand what Bonnie meant by that.

"Anyway," Bonnie continued, not giving Jennifer a chance to question her. "I'm glad you're the one to rescue me. My parents would be way too overbearing. Way too emotional."

"Yes, lucky you. I'm sure you're ready to be sprung from this prison," Jennifer joked with a small smile.

"You have no idea."

"The doctor was giving me a quick, uh, _history _of this place. It's interesting, I guess."

Sighing, Bonnie replied, "Yeah, unfortunately this is the only mental hospital left in the entire city. This place houses the full range, from the most deranged serial killers to normal people just needing a break."

"Sounds too dangerous to me, keeping everyone in the same building."

"That's why the most serious patients are kept downstairs in the cellar, locked away far beneath the surface of the earth. It's pretty much like staying in a level of Hell; a level saved only for demons."

That was why Jennifer felt so uncomfortable. The criminals in the lower levels were contaminating the entire building with their malevolence. It was as if all of them were watching, stalking every person that walked through the halls.

"I won't bore you with the history," Bonnie interrupted her musings. "But the hardcore cases used to be in a different building entirely until that was destroyed by some earthquake. The city was forced to move them here until a new place was built for them. Of course, that never happened."

Bonnie cleared her throat, her voice was slowly starting to die out. She hadn't talked this much in a long time, not even in therapy. Jennifer took notice.

"Well, let's not wear out your voice. You can tell me more about this place later. Let's focus on getting you home."

* * *

><p>Jennifer ended up having to take off for her shift. Her supervisor, Marcy Day, was sympathetic and understanding. Apparently she had to go through something similar with her grandfather who suffered from Alzheimer's. Marcy had to take a day or two off to care for him and the supervisor at that time was equally as understanding.<p>

Plus, it didn't hurt that Jim Lamont offered to cover for her.

Closing her phone with a smile, Jennifer decided that she would have to pay him back later. Maybe a trip to that jazz bar he told her about. The prospect of a date nearly made her giddy, a feeling she hadn't come across in God knows when.

Jennifer turned to the two male nurses attaching bars all the way down the hallway leading to the two bedrooms. They were in the works of making her apartment fully accessible for Bonnie. Every room was converted to meet the needs of her handicaps. Luckily, since Jennifer didn't have much furniture to begin with, they had plenty of room to work with, even being able to set up physical therapy devices so that Bonnie could continue exercising when her therapist wasn't there.

"I'm going to make a quick trip to the store," she announced.

The doctor had given her a list of items and groceries she would need for Bonnie. Bonnie still couldn't eat solid foods and only certain types of soap and shampoo could be used so that the chemicals wouldn't affect her SyntheSkin. She also had a second list that Bonnie compiled herself with things she would like for entertainment: books, a deck of cards, puzzles, coloring books. The last one made Jennifer smile.

Figuring that Bonnie would be safe with the nurses, Jennifer left for the store.

When she came back carrying several bags in her arms she found that the two men were just finishing up the last modification. Bonnie was sitting in front of the window, staring out at the city. Smiling, Jennifer set the bags down on the kitchen table and began fishing through one. She had bought an extra item at the store.

Giving a small triumphant "Ah-hah!", she pulled out a plastic package and hurried over to Bonnie.

"Here." She presented the small gift. "For you."

Bonnie took it, her grip light and weak. It dropped in her lap. "A cell phone?"

"Pre-paid! That way we can keep in touch when I have to go out," Jennifer explained. She was excited that she had thought of it ahead of time. She would need a way to keep tabs on Bonnie while she was at work.

Glossy fingers turned it over to the back. "Good idea."

Jennifer beamed at the small praise. She was going to enjoy having her cousin stay with her. Both were only-child's so they often pretended to be sisters when they visited each other. Though the visits weren't often. Neither families had much money and the two young women would often go several years without contact. It was nice to be reunited.

Dinner that evening was fairly nice. "Fairly" only because of the confessions Bonnie revealed near the end.

Jennifer had spent the whole beginning of the meal discussing the next day's plans and making small talk. She was reveling in their little bonding time. But Bonnie couldn't let Jennifer continue on thinking everything was going to be hunky-dory. Jennifer was completely unaware of Bonnie's previous life. And even if she started uncovering some of her dark secrets and connecting the dots, Bonnie knew that Jennifer was too naïve to believe them, or even wholly understand their implications. No, Jennifer was utterly oblivious to the fact that she was currently sitting across from a murderer and accomplice to an insane serial killer.

Clearing her sore throat, Bonnie decided it was time to come clean. "Jennifer," she caught her cousin's attention. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Sure, anything."

"I'm not quite sure how to say this."

"Just say it," Jennifer gently encouraged.

Bonnie held Jennifer's gaze the entire time she spoke, beginning with, "One might say that I have a few 'sociopathic tendencies'. God knows I haven't been Citizen of the Year. And I feel that you at least deserve to know the basics, from me. I don't want you to hear about it anywhere else without me having my say first."

"What are you saying, Bonnie?" Jennifer looked at her cousin with uncertainty edging her eyes.

"No one knows why I was on fire to begin with. It was an act of revenge by the son of a man I murdered."

The fork in Jennifer's hand slipped and clattered onto the plate.

"For months I was part of a gang and an accomplice to a serial killer. I won't go into the details about the things I was involved in. Truthfully, I was actually hoping the fire would kill me so that I wouldn't have to face the consequences. But my rehabilitation and second chance at life has shifted my principles, so to speak," Bonnie's eyes lowered, finally breaking their connection. "I don't want to be that person anymore."

Jennifer took a deep breath, beyond floored by her confessions. "Well, you aren't that person anymore. You've all ready proved that just by admittance alone."

"I've been given new skin, new organs, new bones, new hair, new everything. There is not one inch of my body that has not been repaired. This is an opportunity for me to start a new way of life."

"Yes, you're right. So, let's make the most of this opportunity."

Bonnie gave her a small smile, her even skin stretching at the corners of her lips. "You've always been the optimistic one."

"Yes, I believe this will be a good thing for the both of us," Jennifer asserted with a nod.

* * *

><p>The next night, Jennifer was on the bus heading to the police station. She hoped that she would run into Jim so that she could thank him personally. The cell phone in her lap jingled, signaling a text message.<p>

It was Bonnie telling her that the physical therapist had just left. Jennifer typed out a quick reply, asking her how the session went. Bonnie told her that should wouldn't be able to feel any of the pain that came with physical therapy so Jennifer wasn't worried about that. She was only concerned about her being home alone.

In the midst of their conversation about the session, a commotion broke out at the front of the bus. Jennifer snapped her attention up and away from her phone. Other passengers were doing the same.

And then the bus filled with shouts and screams.

A gun shot silenced the passengers.

Jennifer could see that the bus driver was lying on the ground, a stranger taking his place at the wheel. There were five of them, including the one now driving. The man who had shot the gun slowly lowered his arm, his dark eyes sweeping over the commuters with little interest.

Or so it seemed.

Jennifer was speechless, motionless, completely thoughtless. She had seen her fair share of lowly criminals, mostly muggers and the occasional convenient store robber. But this guy took the cake. His appearance alone was frightening, borderline disturbing.

"Good ev-_**e-**_ning, lovely passengers of- Bus two, _**one**_, _**three**_. I apologize for the, uh, _**commotion**_ but you see, I just didn't have enough money for the _**bus**_ fare."

Correction: _beyond_ disturbing.

The man continued, his eerie speech heightened by the ghoulish red paint on his mouth that worked itself dramatically. "And I don't think it's _**fair**_," he paused to chuckle at his joke though no one else was laughed. "That I would have to, uh, walk out in the cold, _**dark**_ stree_**t**_s." He leaned into a woman sitting near him. "There are _**crazy **_people out there, y'know."

He erupted into peals of laughter. Even that was disturbing. It was grating and high-pitched, only intensifying his deranged-look. Jennifer had never seen a criminal like him before; well, other than himself.

No, the Joker was in a whole different category of his own.

Jerking back up quickly, he clapped his hands loudly and said, "Well, let's get down to _**busi**_ness. I want all of you to drop your phones beside you in the aisle so tha_**t**_ one of _**my men**_ can pick them u_**p**_." His dark eyes searched for any sort of response. "Hmm, why is i_**t**_ that no one is _**MOVING**_?"

His outburst got the passengers moving. Jennifer practically threw her phone down on the ground trying to get it out of her hands as quickly as possible. Her heartbeat was racing, not a single coherent thought had passed through her mind since the Joker appeared onboard.

A small collection of cell phones littered the aisle. The Joker shoved one his henchmen out to begin collecting them. Jennifer held her breath when the thug reached her end and only released it when he moved back up to the front. She began praying a little mantra, pleading for her survival.

The hoodlum dumped the assortment of cell phones at the Joker's feet. He toed them around briefly with a small frown. His head snapped back up and the creepy smile reappeared.

"I'm afraid I must make another _**apolo**_gy be_**cause**_ we are going. _**To**_. Go. On a. _**Little**_. De_**tour**_. And we won't have any time for-"

His speech was cut short by the sound of a jingle.

The Joker dropped his eyes and frowned at the pile of cell phones. He bent over and haphazardly began pushing them around, trying to search for the one that had interrupted him. Every now and then he would pick up one and hold it to his ear before shaking his head and dropping it back on the ground.

Another jingle and he smiled triumphantly, seizing the proper phone and rising to his hunched height. Humming to himself and nodding his head to the beat, he flipped it open and tapped a key to bring up the message.

What he found silenced his humming.

The Joker's dark eyes flashed up, flaring with an unidentifiable rage. He held the phone up and a sickeningly sweet smile spread across his red lips. "Uh, who's phone is _**this**_?" Though his tone was pleasant and cheery, the entire bus knew that he was actually seething.

When no one answered, his true colors burst forth as he bellowed, "_**WHO'S PHONE IS THIS**_?"

The whole bus jumped. Frightened tears began swelling in Jennifer's eyes. The prospect of her living through the night was diminishing rapidly. She could see a few passengers were already crying.

Displeased with his lack of response, the Joker began walking down the aisle, seizing people by their collars, by their hair, by the back of their necks, anywhere he could get his gloved hands on. He asked all of the same question: "Is this your phone?"

A third jingle and Jennifer's heart nearly exploded.

It was her phone.

Without realizing what she was doing the words just burst forth, "That's my phone."

The Joker released the man he had been interrogating and slowly turned towards her. His eyes were empty yet swirling with madness and when they met Jennifer's terrified own, she almost started suffocating with dread. This wasn't some criminal standing before her, it was a monster.

The Joker approached her, step by step, taking his time, reveling in the fear radiating from the pale young woman shaking in her seat. When he was finally within reach, he held the phone out to her, the screen facing her, and asked, "_**This**_ is your phone?"

Jennifer nodded, a couple of tears breaking free and sliding down her cheeks. "Yes, that's mine."

She finally looked at the screen. He had opened the last received text message.

It said:

**Bonnie 11:34PM**

**Are you there?**

"I find this, uh, _**very**_ interes_**t**_ing."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Yes, yes, long time, no see. But at least the Joker has finally made an appearance, right?

And I'm sorry if the whole SyntheSkin, rebuilding-thing of Bonnie is too contrived. I have to find some way to bring her back. Plus, I figured this was probably one of the more realistic things to happen in the Batman-universe.

I mean, you have Bane, Poison Ivy, Killer Croc, Charaxes, Torque (he had his neck wrenched 180-degrees and managed to live by "radical" drug therapy!), and _Two-Face_. Seriously, there is no way that man would have survived with those injuries (at least the ones depicted in the movie). And there are many more.

I tried to make it as realistic as possible. But as I see it, if all of those villains can get away with their unrealistic qualities, I think Bonnie can pass with a few of her own. Also, you have to admit, "SyntheSkin" is a pretty cool name if they ever do create synthetic skin. At least that's my opinion. But that could be because I came up with it. . .

Anyhoo, enough with my rambling. I'm excited that things are beginning to take off!

Thank you for reading and have a superb day!

:)


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